


Ascent into White

by apologija



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Humanstuck, Illustrated, Illustrations, M/M, Mountaineering, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, as humans, mountainstuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-17 04:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apologija/pseuds/apologija
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gamzee's father, a world renowned thrill-seeker, has only been bested by one trial he faced: Mount Everest. Eager to take the challenge, Gamzee dreamed of summiting that legendary peak for years, but Karkat just thought his head was in the clouds. Naturally, that's why they now found themselves at advanced base camp, preparing for the difficult climb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Wasn't White

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ed (Grimalkin) for his assistance in fixing up Karkat's dialogue and his editing help! Thank you so much for everything, man. I don't know what I would do without you.  
> Also another big thank you to saingirl101 for further betaing and editing help!  
> And also to Momo, who helped me a lot with thinking up a title.
> 
> Also note: Some grammatical weirdness in Karkat's spoken dialogue is intentional, english is not his first language.

I knew I would find him there, same rock in the same damn spot with that same, dopey childish grin stretched over his face. The second I went to the mess tent and failed to see his spindly ass there, I knew this was where he'd be, and sure enough, there he was, staring up at that mountain with something bordering religious reverence, like some kind of half-baked devotee paying pious tribute to the uncaring and unfeeling deity he had pledged himself to. Gamzee was in love with that mountain, he had been in love with it since I first met him and even now as the rigors of acclimatization played havoc with his overgrown and bony excuse of a body, all he had was adoration for the wonder of nature that hunkered down on the horizon before him.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Gamzee? You're never going to make it up that overblown boulder if you don't at least try and shove something resembling a form of actual nutrition down your throat."

His gaze tracked slowly over to me, as though somehow the thin and oxygen deprived air had just been saturated with molasses, that stupid grin of his only growing wider and filling me a not-so unpleasant urge to upturn one of the bowls of food right over his ridiculous head.

"Brother, ain't nothing but a miracle to be here all with you, basking in sun so bright and motherfucking glorious like what I can't even all have made to imagine. It's there, brother, right motherfucking there sitting pretty and all monumental like and drawing me in and motherfucker we're gonna be _on top of that glorious bitch_ in time soon enough."

It took every inch of self control I had not to introduce his face to the meal I had fetched for him, so instead I heaved a sigh out and shoved the bowl of rice, eggs and yak meat into his hands as it was obvious I could no longer be trusted to hold onto it anymore without risking the chance that Gamzee might soon be wearing it.

"Yeah, but as I just said - not even two seconds ago - you're not going to make it anywhere if you don't eat. You've barely touched anything since we finished that pain in the ass hike three days ago. At this rate you're going to burn through all that extra weight we forced on you before we left _in the very first goddamn week_."

The look he gave me was bordering on sheepish as he accepted the food and went to work with the fork, stirring the concoction around with quiet consideration.

"I know, brother, just all -"  
"Oh my god, there is no just, Gamzee. Even someone with half a brain would know something as simple as this. You need to pull your head from the summit’s clouded ass instead of committing to being the biggest moron to grace this side of the mountain." I could tell he was kind of quavering under the unabashed, hard facts he was being force fed at the moment, and with a sigh he finally brought a loaded fork to his mouth and began the process of slowly chewing whilst staring up at the towering peak.

"Appetite was fine at base camp," he muttered at me, not even bothering to swallow first and sounding more like a kid lost amidst the throes of a building tantrum then the respectable mountaineer he actually was.

"Yeah well this is _Advanced_ Base Camp for a reason. For the big kids. Once your body adjusts to the change in altitude you'll be hungry again, but that doesn't mean you can ignore one of your body's fucking vital functions until then. That's just idiocy of the highest degree." It was a familiar song and dance, regurgitating facts I knew Gamzee was more than well aware of, but just hearing them again seemed to bring him some comfort. The trek to ABC was rough on him - both of us, really; two days and twenty two kilometers of hiking over giant boulders, sheets of ice and ball-breakingly thick patches of snow was never an enjoyable undertaking, let alone on a trail _that_ long. It was insult to injury that each step of that only took us higher and into air so thin it was like a monumental undertaking just to try and suck oxygen into our desperate lungs.

"Yeah... Didn't have all as much struggle with this whacked out shit when we was making like a preparation to get our hike on at uhh... Shishi - no, motherfucker... Shishapuh-"  
"Shishapangma. For fuck's sake, we climbed that mountain and you _still_ can't even say the name? Of course it was easier, it maxed out at 8027 metres, and base camp was only 5700. Tack on a extra thousand metres and that's where we are now, and surprise, we’re breathing what feels like more snow than oxygen. I know pitiful amount of brain cells you have are suffering from a lack of oxygen, but at least make an effort to give them some exercise."

I was unable to keep from rolling my eyes as he started laughing, clapping me hard enough on the back to prompt a fresh, air-deprived coughing fit, but at least he soon joined me as his hoarse laugh started him into his own hacking cough, his amusement serving as instant karmic retribution in the most satisfying of ways... That was until we both were clutching our sides in pain by the time our respective coughs had finally settled and we sat back winded and dazed.

"Shit man, ain't no good, yeah?"  
"Yeah," I agreed with a heavy sigh, sliding off the boulder perch to lean back against it and began digging into my food. Unlike him, I didn’t acclimate at the rate of a diseased giant tortoise. Gamzee followed suit, and I noted with satisfaction that he actually began to go at his delivered food with considerable gusto.

"But it's all chill - food's motherfucking bitchtits tasty, party we scaling with ain't nothing but the most legit motherfuckers I've ever got to meet and we're here, bro, pure and motherfucking real on all accounts like we up and just all sauntered in from a righteous motherfucking dream I ain't never dared to have in times before. We're really, truly and in all motherfucking factuality, _finally here_. Mount Everest, man. Mount _motherfucking_ Everest."

He was right. We were there after hard training for nearly five years, months upon months of planning and preparation, we now sat at the base of the mountain with nothing but anticipation for what the future might hold, and blind to the dangers that lurked ahead.

The mountain loomed over us like a spectre, cold and unfeeling in its regard for the pitiful human element that scurried along her base - we would learn quickly enough the high price you pay to attempt her slopes, but for now she was a thing of majesty, and we were playing in blissful ignorance to the malevolence she bared in her cliffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full sized image shown at the beginning can be seen here:  
> http://apologija.tumblr.com/post/34302040622/gamzee-and-karkat-from-my-mountainstuck-au-shortly  
> If you check the mountainstuck tag on my tumblr, you can see other art related to it!  
> Thank you, MorriganFearn for helping me with some tense problems! You rock!


	2. The First Breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Grimalkin, slaingirl101 and MorriganFearn for editing help and betaing! It means a lot to me guys, and I'm sorry I can be such a pain in the ass.

"So, all of this is just because you want to _climb_ it?" Karkat stared incredulously at Gamzee and the spread of books and magazines that lay before him. It was strange enough to see the dopey kid (decked in face paint despite the numerous times he had been punished for doing so) lurking behind a pile of books as though he actually gave a shit about his schooling.  
  
"Shit yeah, motherfucker!" His grin bordered on manic as he looked up from one of his books, his familiar course language (the bane of faculty members everywhere) rearing its ugly head; it was amazing how he defied the school rules with such idiotic determination, and Karkat was always quietly surprised that he hadn't ended up suspended or kicked out of school because of it.  
  
Despite his eccentricities he wasn't a bad guy--mostly. Not that you could convince the majority of the student body otherwise. He was given a wide berth due to his height and the crisp layer of grey and white clown-centric face paint he often wore--and well, okay, so maybe it was also the fact he could be an asshole and a bit combative if given reason (and on rare occasions, given no reason at all), but other than those isolated incidents he was relatively harmless.  
  
He was just... _weird_.  
  
"Huh," Karkat, for once, was at a loss for words.  
  
He certainly was aware of Gamzee's preoccupation with the mountain, what with the pictures he kept in his notebook (when he deigned to pluck it from the depths of his book bag), but he had always assumed it was another one of the clown boy's unusual malfunctions. Seeing him bent over books with such obvious relish in the material he absorbed was foreign and enough to give the indian boy pause. "So, your plan is to climb. Why in the actual fuck do you want to do that? Is it not dangerous?"  
  
"Yeah, real dangerous..." Gamzee shifted the book he was pouring over to show a picture to Karkat, one of his fingers tracing up a rocky spine of the depicted mountain. "All kinds of harsh shit gets itself going down on this rock, motherfucking avalanches and all them crevasse things that can be catching a brother off guard and suckin’ him down to _fuck_ knows where. The whole motherfuckin’ bit acting the crux though, is right here-" He jabbed his finger at one of the plateaus leading up towards the peak. "This point and up is all called the death zone. You know why?"  
  
"Because it's where the brainless idiots go to die?"  
  
"Hahaha, naaah man, though guess you could all be saying that... But it's where the air gets so motherfuckin thin it ain't possible to be all living on your lonesome very long without none of that oxygen business all bottled and pumping air at your sacks, ya dig?" Even under thick swathes of greasepaint coating his skin excitement shone. His teeth practically flashed as he bared them in a near shit-eating grin. Karkat could only stare.  
  
"Yes, that sounds like a lot of fun to climb if you are a suicidal masochist with a taste for slow suffocation. Besides, it’s already has been climbed, so what is the point of you doing it?"  
  
There was hesitation from Gamzee as he turned the page of the book, looking over the words without reading them as he, for once, took time to measure out his response rather than blunder through the conversation.  
  
"Well, my old goat all made like an attempt at climbing it before, yeah? But he ain't none able to be all adjusting to it, left the mountain saying it's just a waste of time," Gamzee’s words, used to rambling here and there, slowed, picking their way with a deliberate stiffness that caught Karkat’s attention. "Like, he ain't never been all bested by shit before, motherfucker's unstoppable in every way and all got his agenda what's kept all motherfucking important like to him... Got my figure down on that it ain't no waste of time though, aight?" Gamzee's deep brown eyes darted upwards, locking onto Karkat's with a strange and sudden sense of determination. "I mean, when you all standing at the motherfucking top you got yourself higher than any other motherfucker what's got his feet still planted firm on the ground, ain't no one higher than you except the brother's what you just made your climb with. That ain't nothing, bro. That ain't a waste of motherfucking time at motherfucking all. Got my believe down on that."  
  
The entire idea of wasting time was not something lost on Gamzee. He had found himself wandering in an aimless daze for most of his younger years until the fateful day that Everest became a goal permanently fixed in the forefront of his mind, towering over his future and paving the path he would eventually take. It all began on one of the few weeks his father was home for a change, and Gamzee was parked in front of the TV and completely engrossed in a documentary pledging tribute to the human spirit and the challenge of conquering that mountain. Everything about Everest fascinated him, from the struggle of those who sought to best the mountain to the natural phenomenon that surrounded it--his interest growing exponentially with each passing moment, but the idea only became cemented as his father wandered by, sparking the conversation that would shape Gamzee’s future.  
  
“I tried to climb mountain once,” he gruffed, his Turkish accent thick but familiar to the young Makara that lay stretched across the floor. “Breathing no good, yeah? Air thin like paper, to breathe was a struggle. Did not make like an adjustment with lungs. It is fool’s errand to climb it. Only waste of time to watch such kind of thing.”  
  
“I think it looks wicked as shit.”  
  
“What, you plan to climb now? _Aptal çocuk_ , you hardly walk without tripping, how you expect to climb mountain? You will fall and open your head on rocks.”  
  
“Just cause you ain’t able to climb it doesn’t mean I can’t, man!”  
  
“I have much doubts in that. You ought focus on something useful with life, you waste time with frivolous gestures, like silly paint on your face and writing foolish words what are a mockery of poetry. Why not study like brother did with your age? Do something worthwhile, instead of waste life what you have been given. Kurloz only do such silly things sparingly, never lost focus on importance of future. Like this, you will amount to nothing. There is little of hope for you now.”  
  
“ _Siktir git!_ ”  
  
The conversation had ended like many of the ones Gamzee shared with his father - the haughty, self assured tone, harsh criticism of Gamzee’s behaviour and a final angry outburst from Gamzee that abruptly closed any further line of dialogue. Just as many times before during his father’s visits, Gamzee had ended up skulking off to his room and brooding in frustration.  
  
Comparisons to Kurloz were inescapable. He was fifteen years older and every bit a fucking _freak_ \--but his father was blind to that, only seeing the success Kurloz had met with both accounting and his numerous investment opportunities. He had only brought benefit to the family, and he certainly wasn’t the one who killed their mother when he was born--no, that cross to bear lay solely on Gamzee, and as understanding as Kurloz could be, there was still no escaping the bitterness that lay beneath the surface of their relationship.  
  
That didn’t matter right now, however. What mattered was the seed that had already taken root deep within the recesses of Gamzee’s young mind.  
  
His father, well known in many travelling and adventuring sects of the world, who had journeyed to both the North and South Pole, hiked through the rainforests of the amazon, circumnavigated the globe by boat and personally financed many important expeditions to the ocean floor, had  _failed_  to climb Mt. Everest. He had actually failed to do something when every other challenge he faced was bested with relative ease. His fame, wealth and influence had the world open up to him as though on a silver platter, but even for all of his notoriety, the mountain _still bested him_.  
  
It was during that conversation that Gamzee ultimately learned that the father who was like a god to him in all his distance and near insurmountable determination, was merely a man after all. Gamzee also knew then that he would do _anything_  to succeed where his father had failed.  
  
\-------  
  
“Hey bro.”  
  
A few weeks after Gamzee had spoken to Karkat about his Everest aspirations, he found himself eating breakfast with his brother and staring vacantly out over the lapping waters of Puget Sound. Apparently there was a half day for Kurloz at work, or something, giving them a rare chance to eat together before Gamzee left for school.  
  
“What’s up?” Kurloz glanced up from breakfast, smiling softly and still speaking; two years from now he would lose himself into a strange cult, taking a vow of silence and withdrawing completely from the increasingly troublesome mental instability of his little brother.  
  
“Been thinking it’d be the bitchtits to be all learning how to mountain climb, yeah?” Gamzee aimlessly pushed his cereal around with his spoon as he spoke, watching the colours swirl within the milk. “Maybe make a start with all that hiking business and all learning how you ought be moving over such terrains and--”  
  
“So you have desire on taking such wicked lessons, or maybe equipment for such?” His accent was nowhere near as prevalent as their father’s, but Kurloz heritage was still obvious in how he spoke. He had been a young adult when the Makara family had moved to Seattle, whereas Gamzee was born and raised there and only knew a few scattered words of Turkish, most of them offensive.  
  
“Yeah man, if that ain’t all being like a problem with ya--Had my think on it for awhile and would get me all jovial if you’d be chill with that wicked shit.” Gamzee pursed his lips as he awaited his brother’s response, the idle stirring of his cereal going forgotten as Kurloz considered his request.  
  
“Sure.” His shoulders raised in a shrug as he replied. “Just try to space out purchase of any equipments you need. That means, do not buy it all at same time, and then lose interest and have wasted your motherfucking money, yeah?”  
  
“Aight, bro.” Gamzee nodded firmly in response, unable to hide his elation as he dug back into his cereal. The rest of their meal finished in familiar silence before Kurloz bid farewell and headed to work, leaving Gamzee alone with his thoughts.  
  
There was bitterness to be sure between the brothers, but Gamzee was still unable to direct any anger towards Kurloz. He had taken care of much of Gamzee’s rearing once he was no longer reliant on nannies and was able to fend for himself in many ways. Kurloz was even heavily responsible for the unusual manner of speech that Gamzee had adopted along with a few other of his eccentricities, but despite such he was unable to take much pride in the development of his younger brother. Perhaps it was the rigors of playing father to someone he never should have had to, but as the years passed and Gamzee grew that buried animosity began to rot and fester.  
  
The young Makara’s mind was far from any more grave considerations as he tugged on his tattered hoodie and double checked the thick coating of paint that lay over his face. He had free reign on his own personal bank account, and he had for awhile; the entire song and dance he had just completed with Kurloz serving no identifiable purpose other than a show of respect towards his brother’s authority as his caretaker, but Kurloz rarely denied Gamzee anything that he desired--and honestly never felt he had that right to do so. As much as Gamzee shadowed after him in behaviour, from the familiar paint (which he used to share Gamzee’s enthusiasm for in earnest before life dictated it was time to become respectable) to the unusual love of all things clowns, in the end they were still merely brothers with a fraying connection built on obligation and necessity rather than anything tangible and sound. It was a shame that what tenuous bond that remained would soon be severed by the rocky road that lay ahead.  
  
These worries were beyond Gamzee at the moment. For now all Gamzee could think about was how excited he was to invite Karkat along with him to start shopping around for the equipment with which they would soon learn to use with intimate familiarity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full sized image of the one in this chapter can be found here:  
> http://apologija.tumblr.com/post/34654853986/apologija-quick-little-kind-of-ugly-thing-of


	3. Within Reach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more thank you to grimalkin, who helped me with Karkat's dialogue and is pretty much the best dude ever. Also thank you to sfingella, who beta'd for me on this one!
> 
> This one is Gamzee first person perspective, which is a little weird - def interested on feedback in regards to readability/enjoyment of this perspective.

Everything's hard here. Every single thing what a motherfucker could all get to doing ain't done with naught but struggle. Just getting your wake on and propping your body up sucks the wind from your chest and you got yourself feeling like shit warmed over cause you didn't sleep none and your head's got its ache going and motherfuck if you ain't all wishing you never got this crazy notion buried deep in your motherfucking skull pan. Like, I've all up and done this noise before, yeah? Only once, but it ain't nothing as high as this, going to points higher than anything up in the home turf and making like I'm all supposed to be surviving that shit.

My body ain't having none of that wicked business, but I know that if climbing is all acting the objective, then I gotta drag this hunk of meat out of the bag and get a start with my day.

At this time my best bro and I ain't been at the advanced camp for more than three days but it's all a time of motherfucking rest relaxationals to be situating proper with the climate what's hashed inhospitable. Nothing makes a permanent residence up as far as we are now, cause that brother's all gotta have a deficiency in the think stem if he's finding this something of comfort. Even the sherpas, who you ain't ever gonna get like to convincing me aren't superhuman, don't make a settle on in such kinds of altitudes.

Shit's no fun, not when just sitting up has got me out of breath and feeling dizzy. Got my worry on about the sickness biting in proper but the symptoms what've got their plague on have been quieting that riotous racket they're wreaking in my bones - shit's clearing up, or that’s all I can really motherfucking hope for, and keep being to tell myself at.

But I know that ain't changing the fact that now I'm just making like a filibuster up in my skull; my bro's probably already up and tromping around like he's all still at levels close to the sea, motherfucker's small as fuck all, but man can a brother  _adapt_.

Get my jealous on to see it.

But no motherfucking way I'm gonna get shown up all on my own dream, so I push up and off the ground, cold and un motherfucking feeling as ever to shovel all of me out and into the air crisp and the air motherfucking thin.

"I'd force some kind of half assed compliment at you about how you're finally awake if I didn't know full well that you never slept." All I can do is offer him a grin tinged guilty cause motherfucker knows me like nobody else ever could.

“Nah bro, all caught some shut eye.” One look and I know he knows that I ain’t being truthful but he’s got the decency to let it pass for now, though it’s clear he ain’t happy at all about that shit.

“Whatever, just hurry up and get to the mess tent so I can shovel a substantial amount of food down your throat before the meeting with Myers.”

I get a rub down on with my head trying to coax the pounding to get its settle on but it’s all motherfucking moot and only thing I can do is tug on my jacket and tuck a hat over my head in some kind of vain hope it might all hold all the jagged pieces of my skull together from how it’s feeling. All set, my bro and I take off towards the mess tent to sink into some grub.

“You feeling chill?” I shoot a glance at him as we get motoring proper, already feeling like the air’s been punched the motherfuck out of me after two steps.

“Except for the rebellions my head is throwing against the very idea we’re stupid enough to be up here, I’m fine. Better than you, by about 5400 metres it seems. Slow down a little or something, it sounds like your innards are going to jump out of your torso and quit, leaving you a limp husk that I refuse to haul straight to the medical tent.” He’s got a point-- to easy to sink into habits old and move faster than what I ought to considering the condition I’m all keeping at the moment, and I make like an adjustment to find a pace that ain’t got me wheezing all like a dying motherfucking bull.

“Hm, yeah? Guess so, hard being such to measure steps, all eager to be getting an earful of the noise our brother’s set to pour right the motherfuck down on us. Ain’t long til we be making the first of the motherfuckin wicked sojourns up to North Col.”

“That’s still not happening for a couple more days, and for good reason. I don’t think you could ride a yak up the ice wall, let alone actually climb it without falling a mile to your messy demise.”

I know my bro’s all just looking out at me and he ain’t nothing but truthful in what observations he’s making, but still find saltiness in me to motherfucking hear it no matter how valid it’s all hashed. I get my shrug on and make it shades clear that talking much more right now ain’t all what I got in mind, especially since just making words has me twice as winded as what I was before making just a trot to fetch some fresh nutrition, so it’s all in motherfucking silence relative that we be snatching up plates of food and settling in with a couple of others to dig in while sinking into the conversation what’s already been flowing smooth around us.

“Ja, laid out on the cliff in the snow. Acute mountain sickness, had to call for sherpas to escort him down.” A big german dude, one of our motherfucking amigos in this righteous venture, is looking all grave as he talks to a climber I ain’t known yet.

“Why was he even on the ice cliff? We’re supposed to be resting right now and he’s never been here before, he should know better than to take risks with shit he’s not even familiar with.”

“Whoooah, what’s got itself wrought now?” Curiosity motherfucking piqued, I leaned forward as I asked, looking between Thorben and the mystery sis what’s sitting next to him-- never did seen her before, but it’s known at that she’s likely playing part to another group with aspirations all similar to us.

“Nick tried climbing up ice cliff earlier today after telling no one. Passed out in the snow, I saw him while heading to the bathroom.”

“What the hell sort of spontaneous lapse of cognizant thought passed through his semi- asphyxiated excuse of a frontal lobe made him do that? That level of stupidity should have been made illegal across the world. We haven’t even done the demonstration session, let alone even consider the hike up to the North Col.” My brother was looking all indignant to hear that harsh news, forehead knitting tight. “Is that moron okay?”

“Well I just overheard the doctor saying that he’s being taken down to base camp,” the lady unfamiliar is talking now, tapping at her head with a finger. “He’s pretty sure it’s HACE with how severe it is, not just AMS.” Thorben looked as surprised as all what I felt.

“Motherfuck me, man, ain’t a lick of goodness all down in  _that_  whacked out shit,” It’s all seriousness in the words she slings with the consideration on that what he’s got can all be something killing. High altitude cerebral edema, water all clogging up your skull and restriction the function proper of all them vital functions and getting a brother rightfully shut the motherfuck down. You don’t fuck with it, and it don’t fuck with you; shit plays for motherfucking keeps and we’re all just setting uncomfortable to hear it cause that ain’t no news good to be receiving so early on in this endeavour.

“Ja, he was halfway up slope where they found him. Even if he was feeling okay he should not have tried, it is too soon to go up that fast if you are not accustomed... But he should be okay, if they bring him to base camp quickly.”

“Clearly an exemplary start for the blatantly deranged..." My best friend got his murmur on at my side, heaving a sigh at his plate like his appetite's made itself all scarce in manners similar to mine. "The sherpa left to lay out the fixed rope only today, did he expect to climb all the way up to the summit in their tracks, or was this some especially brain-damaged malfunction of just going to go wallow around at the North Col on his own?"

The woman unknown got her laugh on to hear my bro make such complaints, sitting close enough towards him to make a lean forward and give him all a pat on his shoulder.

"You're great kid," she said with a grin. "Why don't you come join my expedition? Could use someone like you to keep our spirits up."

"Are you kidding, and leave this asshole to both starve to death and charge headlong up the mountain just like Nick except with his fat being gnawed away at because of a sleeping concept of hunger?" His thumb jerked towards me and I grinned stupid at the both of them.

Rest of our meal passed easy e-motherfucking-nough without much of any such importance going down, and soon with my gut all full and feeling marginal amounts of motherfucking improvement down in me, my brother and I headed towards where we were to make the gather on later, grabbing seats at the makeshift command center while waiting for Myers and the others to show their faces right and proper.

 

* * *

 

"It looks like everyone's acclimatizing well enough, and as much as I'm sure you're all enjoying sitting around and doing absolutely fucking nothing, we unfortunately have to get started on what all of you paid to be here for! First things first is we've gotta get a handle on the skill you've brought to the table, since hearing about your conquests isn't the same as seeing it first hand and the last thing I need is some new asshole trotting his way over this mountain with aspirations to climb when he can't even tell one side of his ice pick from the other. We'll be doing ice climbing today, ladies and gentleman, so if any of you were fibbing on your resumes now's the time to cram in what you can to at least pretend like you know what you're doing. As much as I might like to joke, this ceases being a joking matter fast when suddenly a novice is in trouble up on the mountain and he doesn't know the first thing about defusing the situation."

Myers man, got nothing but a harsh motherfuckin respect for the brother laying his speech down on our heads; smart as a motherfuckin fox and enough charisma to be drowning those who ain't acting wary. I could feel the grin swathed across my visage as he got his talk on, leaning in towards my bro and wagging brow forwards towards our man.

"I'm not trying to be melodramatic here but people die on this mountain, hell, someone almost died today because he let his confidence get the better of him. You have to have faith in what you can do, but you can't let that shit override whatever common sense you have-- Trust me, last thing you need is to be squandering any sense you got before you get up there and the lack of oxygen is sapping away your senses and you're getting dumber by the minute. If any one of you is unable to keep your shit together in a time of crisis, it could mean the death of not only yourself, but your comrades and the sherpa's who will be accompanying you. This isn't a game, so remember that.

"Now after we finish our little heart to heart here all of you will be sent off to the medical tent to get your vitals checked. I'm not about to have you start hauling ass over any ice without making sure you've adjusted to the altitude, so the doctor will be making sure none of you are on the verge of keeling over. "

Brandon Myers ain’t had no qualms in telling it all like it was, but motherfuck if nervousness didn't start getting at me at the talks of that physical acting a looming atrocity. A squirm up and sank into me as we made to listen at what all our brother had to say, and my main motherfucker seemed to get a handle on such things as he shot me a look suggesting I get my settle down on and keep focused. It was the hand on my elbow what brought calm genuine though, cause in all the depths of what I am, I knew he was nothing but correct in this wicked business: Everything would be just motherfucking fine.

 

* * *

 

After the righteous dress code had been crammed in our brains we got sent on our motherfucking way; all of our brother's were making a beeline towards the med tent and my bro got the gumption that we ought pick up what gear twisted necessary for the ice traverse before we did similar.

"Who knew we'd be still be waiting in lines this far up," he grumbled with as much good nature as he could be summoning as we stood near our tents, digging through and picking out what we got the need on for. "The fact we're actually going to be facing ball breaking traffic jams at 7000 metres and above is completely stupid. Last thing I want to do is sit behind some moron with more money than brains who paid his way up the mountain without a single fucking clue how he should be climbing it. I can already hear their baffled cries for their baby bottle of cash and the sanctity of the beach house."

"Ahhhh man bro, ain't nobody all as fast as we be, yeah? Lines ain't a thing we gotta get no worry on about when we gonna be making the lead of the motherfucking pack."

"For our sake I hope your right, standing below the second step and freezing my ass off while waiting for some guy try and figure out how a fucking ladder works is a prospect I don't even want to try and consider. I don't want to waste precious oxygen trying to coach him through the basic concept of you put your boots on the rungs and pull yourself up with your arms."

"Now wouldn't that just be the motherfucking shit to lay gaze on, bro? Some motherfucker who ain't got no lurid clue what's the haps be at while climbing this gnarly rock..."

"If you mean it literally, then yeah, it would be the shit, as in the giant pile of shit we just face planted into as life physically manifests itself to laugh at our expense. Hearing about this metaphorical jerk-- Yeah, maybe, but see him? Oh fuck no, I don't even want to be making a summit attempt the same time he began dragging his worthless ass up the mountain."

We shot the shit all full of motherfuckin holes while we picked on through all hashed necessary, taking a pause to be slipping on the climbing boots what's set to settle the crampons (which are all being the spikes you place on your boots to be making a climb on ice and snow) on. All a royal pain to be slipping on them necessities when we ain't making a rightful climb, feet all motherfuckin lost in fabric and layers of socks but ain't much in the way of comfort if you don't do it right. The shit all laid out before us was something of a comfort though; in times before my bro and I would sit pretty on our collective motherfucking asses making knots and strapping metal until I got myself waking with my fingers making like a pantomime in my motherfucking sleep. Second motherfucking nature to be forging a fuss with such kinds of things and I'd be weaving mistruths to claim it weren't like a comfort to me now... but not enough of one to be erasing no worries proper.

"Bro," I ventured, glancing down on him as we settled our packs. "What say we get a walk on for a motherfuckin spell before we point toes at that uncouth tent?"

"What, why? The line shouldn't be that bad by now, the trainwreck you have the gall to pass off as organizational system made sure of that- " His mouth is open to forge a continuation, but he sees it on me that I got all the twitching and the need for moving burning down in me as them jitters settle in deep on my bones and my brother takes a pause longer before he gets his agreement on with a nod.

"Yeah, alright. That's fine. We still have two hours before the demonstration, just as long as we don't go far."

"Destinations lacking rudely, bro, was just all thinking we could make like a skirt of the camp. Scenic motherfucking route all towards where we ought be." That was fair enough to him cause he was already leading the way and soon we was tracing the city of tents all pitched out in the middle of god-fuck nowhere; ain't nothing but mountains rising up tall on either side of us, with the mother of us all taking stage center and begging respect with the massiveness of her. Little sister Lhotse was peaking all down on her south side, and a motherfucking cacophony of snaggly tips yet unnamed rose and fell what like the waves of the motherfucking sea, lapping at sky blue and air thin with prayers for those who don't know what they missing.

"Beautiful ain't it?" As vast a motherfucking understatement I ever could make.

"Yeah," my bro agrees, scanning blue with brown and tracing the jagged teeth of the earth herself.

"Wanna be looking down on the all of all of it, bro... More than anything else what can be.” I sought a pause for a moment’s time, anxiety at voicing what’s getting at me making it all seem like a bad omen to be saying it verbally. “But I all got my worry on thick that history ain't nothing but a cycle cruel." Agitation's biting at me, eating at the bones of me and it's all I can do to be keeping calm in such considerations, the thinness of the air working fine to coax a calm forced with the struggle it is to breathe.

"Are you talking about the physical? You acclimatized for Shishapangma just fine, why do you suddenly have it burrowed in your skull that you're not going to pass this one? Because of your worthless asshole of a dad?"

Silence snatches precedence all up from us as we walk for a spell, words growing scarce as sounds of rocks, ice and our own laboured breathing make an assault on what all can be heard.

"Yeah, but that ain't as high what this is, and ain't so motherfucking quick neither. It's like our bro Nick, speed got in him and the speed motherfucking is what all took him right the fuck out. What if that's me in the times next? The next short sighted motherfucker being dragged down the mountain all like some heinous mistake."

"Gamzee..."

"I motherfucking mean it, bro! Got the mean, got the motherfucking know on it that this ain't what it should be, that I shouldn't be making such struggle to draw breath and get my move up on and on. Can hardly motherfuckin sleep for the ache getting at me, the motherfuckin pounding throbbing cruel down on this head of mine!" I ain't meaning to but I'm all lashing out at my brother, arms moving and making gestures none to friendly while the voice of me shows no propensity to be settling.

"Slow down Gamzee, you are going to make yourself sick if you keep doing  _that_. "

Slowing down is just what I ain't got no mind to do.

"It's fucked, man, motherfucking fucked all to motherfucking hell how you get yourself motoring like we ain't just made a climb to such heights and shit's just natural as fuck to you, while I ain't got nothing but the slow down and the motherfucking drag. Can't breathe, can't sleep, can't even get my motherfucking eat on in any shade proper!" My bro's face is all creased with concern while it flows out of me, the spite and the fire and the negativity what's been kept deep in and down low since we all made our arrival.

"It ain't fair man... Ain't fair at motherfucking  _all_."

I can't hardly raise my voice no more at the last of it; mutiny’s all still churning but the breath of me is running scarce and my head making a spin of things until I ain’t seeing straight no longer. All I can hardly do is to make a clutch at my skull before stumbling back and making some hunk of ice into a bench impromptu like.

"See? I told you, you gigantic asshole. Just sit down for a minute, okay?" His voice was all calm and soothe as he took the space next to me, close enough so our hips are touching and his voice is playing in my ear. "You know as well as I do that not everyone adjusts at the same rate- - Hell, you knew this before I even seriously considered  _ever_  climbing a mountain. It’s genetics, dude. You're getting better every day even if you're too busy wallowing in self pity to actually recognize that. You just have to be patient and not work yourself into some ridiculous, frothing frenzy over every little thing."

It's hard as shit to heave the sigh what needs escape from me, but much easier still to be slumping in against my bro, drawn in to him. I can feel his hand getting busy with my back, patting me in manners comforting as his voice never stopped.

"It'll be fine and you'll feel like the world's biggest idiot to get yourself worked up so much over this.. Your oxygen levels will be good and other than the weight I'm sure you've already lost because you refuse to eat like some stubborn child, you'll be acclimatizing just as fast as you need to."

It's easy to believe it when it's coming from his mouth; when he's the one what's letting me lean and playing pillar solid to the uncertainty what's in me, and sitting there under that endless expanse of blue, motherfucking majestic with the vastness of it, I got nothing but faith in the truth of them words.


End file.
